Chapter 3

3637 BBY

Lord Rend woke with a start, an audible groan escaping his lips as the memory of pain became once more a reality. He lay in a medical bed, his surroundings familiar; he recognized the cold and grim medical quarter of Darth Siphon's stronghold; he had spent much time here, especially while training with his master.

Beside him on a separate bed lay Andora. The twi'lek was naked from the waist up, the rise and fall of his broad chest the only sign that he remained alive. Rend was glad, if only because it meant he had at least succeeded at something during their battle with Pike. Unfortunately, he doubted Siphon would count saving Andora as a victory, especially when she learned that Vandal Pike had escaped.

Vandal Pike. Just what manner of bounty hunter was he? In all his time serving Darth Siphon, Rend had never seen a non-force sensitive wield a lightsaber with such finesse. It seemed almost impossible that a bounty hunter of his notoriety could have acquired such a skill without word of it spreading around. Quen's dossiers had completely omitted that detail, and though Rend might have found the agent distasteful, the woman's reports were usually thorough and accurate to the tee.

Rend remained in his bed for a few moments before restlessness overtook him. Gently easing himself up, he found he could sit with only mild discomfort. He decided to gingerly stand up. Just as he determined he was able to walk, he heard the sound of fluttering robes come through the door. His master had arrived.

He instantly regretted bowing as he felt pain seize both his back and his gut; nevertheless, he managed to return to a standing position with a modicum of dignity. "My lord."

"Well done, Lord Rend. The Dread Hunters are no more, and Darth Orthas is denied their service in this fool's game of a Kaggath."

The Darth's tone sounded almost congratulatory. "My lord? I … offer my sincerest apologies – "

Darth Siphon laughed. "Apologies? You don't mean what happened to Andora? I suspect he put himself squarely in his current predicament. No, the important thing is you managed to eliminate Vandal Pike."

Rend tried to hide his surprise. Vandal Pike was dead? But …

"Quen reports they found his body crushed so badly in the wreckage that it was unrecognizable. They had to run genetic verification to confirm, but it's come back with a match. Pike is dead, and I no longer need worry about my agents and soldiers being taken in on Orthas' bounties."

Pike had been crushed? Did he not manage to escape? It was true that by the end of their confrontation, Rend had been more concerned with self preservation than the whereabouts of the bounty hunter, but he didn't think he would have missed slaying his opponent - not with how connected to the Force he had been in the last moments of their battle.

"You're sure, my lord Siphon? I –" he paused, correcting himself. "What I mean to say is Vandal Pike was a formidable opponent. I almost can't believe we succeeded."

Darth Siphon paused for a moment; then, cold laughter emanated forth from behind her golden mask. "You are growing paranoid, apprentice. I trust Quen, and she tells me the genetics are confirmed. Vandal Pike is no more. Your accomplishments grow with every passing day."

Pike is dead. Something did not sit right with Rend about that claim: after their battle together, it seemed implausible that the bounty hunter could have been dispatched so easily by something as mundane as stray debris. Still, he loathed to contradict his master when she seemed in such a good mood. He learned long ago that it often did not pay to interrupt Siphon's moments of reverie.

The sound of a Quen's voice being broadcast over the intercom interrupted Rend's thoughts. "My lords. We are receiving an incoming transmission from Darth Orthas."

"This will be interesting," said Siphon, glancing at Rend knowingly for a moment. "I'll take it here, agent."

"As you wish, Darth."

Rend could almost swear he saw his master quiver with anticipation at the thought of announcing their victory to her most hated rival.

Within seconds, the holoprojector sitting atop the nearby desk began to buzz. Siphon hit a few buttons to conjure the shimmering cerulean image of Darth Orthas.

The sith pureblood wore traditional ritualistic robes. A master of the Dark Side, Orthas was well known for preferring sith sorcery over lightsaber combat in duels. Nevertheless, he had not neglected his physical training; the pureblood was massively built and emanated strength in every possible way. Rend could not help but notice that Siphon seemed a child by comparison.

If Siphon was intimidated, she did not show it. "Darth Orthas. To what do I owe the pleasure? Have you come to thank me for purging your ranks of a non-pureblood infection? Imagine my surprise when I discovered non-purebloods in your service."

"I have no objection to mongrel blood serving me, Siphon. I merely believe that you and your filth are unfit to call yourselves Sith."

Siphon laughed. "And yet it seems I am the victorious one this day. Your allies fall, while my power base grows only stronger."

"You think I care if I lose a few bounty hunters?" Orthas asked with derision. " … things aren't going as well for you as you might believe. I intercepted your transmissions to Darths Ruinate and Miro."

Siphon did not respond, though Rend noticed his right hand clenched into a fist.

"I'm afraid I must inform you that they will not be joining your cause in the Kaggath."

"You had them killed," said Siphon, managing an air of defiant indifference.

Orthas chuckled, cold and calculating. "Not entirely accurate. Yes, Miro proved unfortunately unaccommodating and had to be disposed of. Ruinate, on the other hand, has had an epiphany of sorts; he now sides with me. Both of them revealed to me that which you sought to obtain from them … the holocrons of ancient sorcery. Their power is now added to my own."

Siphon's hand curled into such a tight fist, it looked like her fingers wanted to tear through her palms through brute force. "Ruinate is no pureblood. You accept him into your ranks?"

"He has agreed to forego the title," replied Orthas. "Another reason you and your alien filth are unworthy of taking the name. Between dying a Sith and living humbled and denigrated … you so often choose life."

"So you have one more to add to your flock, one more to follow your worthless philosophies," Siphon said, the calm dispassion in her voice long gone. "In the end, it is I who will emerge victorious, Orthas."

"No, Siphon. This contest is already won. It is only your stubbornness that draws it out. Let me assure you, when I am standing over your corpse, I will have your name - and all of your false apprentices' names - wiped from the annals of history just as Tulak Hord once did to his enemies. Never again will you stain the title of Sith by your very existence."

The transmission cut out. Orthas had terminated the connection.

"Master?" Rend asked gingerly after a short pause. Siphon was prone to reacting to bad news with either eerie calm or explosive fury; Rend could never predict which his master would choose. And though he had no knowledge of the ancient holocrons Orthas spoke of, he knew the loss of Darths Miro and Ruinate as allies was a critical blow to his master's efforts in the Kaggath.

Rend relaxed when at last Siphon spoke, voice calm and unperturbed by Orthas' revelations. "It seems our celebration was premature, Lord Rend. We do not have much time now; we must make preparations for an attack."

"As you wish, my master … what is our target?"

Siphon shook her head. "No. With the holocrons of Ancient Sorcery in his possession, as well as Ruinate's defection, Orthas must believe he now has the strength to finish the Kaggath. He will be mounting an assault on this fortress. We must ready ourselves."

Rend could not disagree with the tactical assessment. "What would you have me do, my lord?"

"Have agent Quen recall our forces in the field as quickly as she can. Then make whatever preparations you must; this will be a battle for our very survival."

Rend nodded. He needed to see Quen anyway; there were questions she needed to answer, namely why her dossier had left out Pike's lightsaber proficiency. "What will you be doing, my lord?"

Rend could hear the hint of annoyance in Siphon's tone. "I have my own preparations to make. Do not tarry, Lord Rend. We have not the time."

"… It will be done."

Ten Years Prior

" … speak up, apprentice. You succeeded in your mission?"

Tosin coughed in a feeble attempt to clear his throat. "Y-yes, master. I … I killed them." He could feel the smile from the Sith Lord, even through her mask.

"Good … tell me, what do you feel?"

The question took him aback. What did it matter what he felt? "I … I don't feel anything, my lord."

"Again, you lie, Tosin," said Siphon, his voice filled with mocking glee. "You struck down your brother in cold blood. You must feel something."

"I … no, my lord. I did as you commanded. I demonstrated my loyalty. My commitment!"

Siphon's laughter echoed through her chamber. "Yes, apprentice. You have demonstrated your resolve. But you claim you do not feel the impact of your actions … do you think you will earn my favor, my respect, for demonstrating callous indifference in the face of atrocities committed by your hand? Do you think that is what the Sith thrive upon? Do you think this is why I commanded what I did?"

"My … my lord?" Tosin could not keep the tremble from his words. He hated it. More than that, he hated himself, for being weak, for his crimes, for his failures.

"Peace is a lie, little Sith. There is only passion. Show me your passion. Show me what you're trying to hide."

The words poured out of him before he could stop himself, before he could consider the consequences of their meaning. "I … I feel … anger. I feel HATE! You made me - you made me kill my own brother, you *****. But h-how could I do it? What have I become?"

"You have become strong. Embrace what you feel, apprentice. Let it swallow your heart and consume it from the inside out. Let it feed your power."

"I know you hate me Tosin," Siphon continued. "But that is good. Channel your rage as you drown in the memories of your actions this day. Use your emotions to bring our enemies to their knees."

Tosin fell silent. He could sense the pride in his master … no. It was more like … glee. Siphon spoke more, but the words did not pass Tosin's ears. The flash of anger he felt had quickly been scattered as something else took its place: fear. It was all he could do not to be overwhelmed, not to allow his breath to spin out of control, praying that his Master did not notice the cold sweat accumulating at the top of his forehead.

" … go now. Wait for my summons. Tomorrow, we will begin the next phase of your training."

He bowed low, then backed out of Siphon's quarters. As soon as he was out of sight, he turned tail and bolted to his own room; he passed several other apprentices on the way, but paid them no mind. Shutting the door behind him as quickly and quietly as he could, he crawled into a corner and curled up into a pathetic ball, knees clutched to his chest, breath coming in labored and desperate gasps.

As he rocked himself back and forth, Tosin wondered in futility if Siphon had seen through his deception.

3637 BBY

"Confirming. Agents Braeden and Fyat-Pree are not responding to holocalls. Agents Sembo, Terannis and Quond are confirmed killed in action."

Lord Rend found Hallian Quen - along with the rest of Siphon's intelligence operations - scanning the holonet for news, no doubt in connection to the operatives that had been assigned to Darths Miro and Ruinate. Her usual air of enthusiasm and slightly inappropriate joviality was noticeably missing.

Rend wondered for a moment if perhaps her mood might make getting answers out of her easier. He had questions, and only she would have the answers.

He approached her console station, speaking quietly. "Darth Siphon commands we recall all our forces in the field. We must prepare for an attack on this stronghold."

Quen glanced at him for a moment before nodding and adjusting her communicator. "New orders received. All units, abandon current objectives and return to alpha base." The rest of the team followed suit as urgent orders were relayed to the rest of Siphon's power base.

"If there's nothing else, my lord, I need to – "

"I need to speak with you … privately," said Rend.

He grabbed her arm and started pulling her into a nearby corridor. Surprisingly, Quen managed to wriggle herself free somehow, though she acquiesced to his desires and followed him quietly out of the command center. "What is this about, my lord?"

"Vandal Pike. You're certain he's dead?"

Quen arched a brow. "You took him down, didn't you? I examined the corpse myself. The body was buried under rubble and showed clear signs of having been electrocuted. The head was crushed beyond recognition, but genetic verification confirmed the identity - why are you asking about this?"

Electrocuted … had he done that?

Rend debated for a moment accusing Quen of sending him and Andora into a trap, that she had deliberately withheld information concerning Pike's lightsaber prowess in order to sabotage their mission. He paused for a moment, finally deciding he might have better luck ascertaining the truth if he didn't let her know too much too soon.

"What equipment did you find on the body?" asked Rend.

"Standard bounty hunter affair; heavy armor, a plethora of missile launchers, flamethrowers, grappling hooks, jetpacks and rocket boosts. Most of it destroyed, of course. Oh, and his pistols."

"That's it? Nothing out of the ordinary? No … lightsabers?" pressed Rend.

Quen shook her head, the question eliciting mild surprise - but no sign of guilt, no sign that she was hiding anything. Maybe she really hadn't known. "You mean like … as trophies? I know he hunted down some Jedi a while back. In any case though, no, there was nothing like that on him or near where we found his body. Probably the only thing unusual about it was his blaster pistols."

Rend frowned. "Elaborate."

"Well, they were pretty standard fare pistols. For a bounty hunter of his renown, I would have expected something a little fancier. Custom build, adaptive mods, enhanced tech - but the ones he was holding when we found the body weren't much to marvel at."

He let loose a sigh. No answers, and Quen seemed to know even less than he did. He would verify Pike's dossier independently now, but Rend doubted anything he learned would contradict what Quen had already provided to him. Quen's personality might have been aggravating, but Rend couldn't deny her work ethic or the quality of her work. That left few possibilities - either Pike had managed to conceal his skills from all of Imperial and Sith intelligence … or the man Rend had faced at Langxi wasn't Pike at all. It was possible it had been a fallen jedi, or perhaps a Sith in Orthas' employ masquerading as the bounty hunter.

… but to what end?

By all accounts, Pike was dead - and by Rend's hand, no less. Still, the sith lord could not shake the feeling that something else was at work here; in his gut, Rend knew the man had survived. Pike - or whoever he and Andora had fought - was playing a game, and the sith did not appreciate being toyed with.

"Look into Pike's inheritors. I want to see where his assets are go– "

Quen shook her head vehemently. "No. Not now. If you haven't noticed, this fortress is about to be attacked by a small army led by a Darth who's intent on not only killing us all, but wiping our names from history!"

Brow furrowing, Rend attempted to calm his tone. "Yes … you're right. But afterwards –"

"I serve at Darth Siphon's pleasure, my lord. Not yours."

"Please." The word was harder to voice than Rend thought. He shouldn't have to utter such; courtesy was not a prerogative of the Sith. But from Quen's appearance, it was clear she had lost friends this day. Rather than risk inflaming or causing the woman further anguish, Rend decided a small degree of humility was worth getting the information he wanted. " … it's important."

Quen shrugged, exasperated. "Fine, fine! I'll put someone on it the minute we're no longer in danger of being purged from existence."

Rend nodded, and whirled around to leave. He heard Quen mutter under her breath in two distinct voices: "Oh thank you Hallie, I so do appreciate you!" and "Why you're welcome, my lord! Happy to help!"

It did not take long for Lord Rend to return to his quarters; they were bare and plain, though a large window brought in ample amounts of moonlight. His room overlooked the gardens, currently teeming with flora from all across planets controlled by the Empire. Darth Siphon had a fondness for collecting different species from different worlds and mixing and matching them to see if any would form symbiotic relationships. Other times, she bred them together to create wholly new forms of life. She had devoted an entire section of the garden to one such creation: a golden-petaled flower that reminded Rend of Agent Quen for some reason, perhaps because it seemed entirely too cheery.

Rend wondered how long those gardens would last if Orthas really were to attack. He had to remind himself that the real enemy was Darth Orthas. With the pureblood eliminated, all their troubles would be over. He had to concentrate on that fact … not focus on misgivings and paranoia concerning one of the Darth's underlings.

Whatever happened, Rend knew one thing for certain:

This time, he would not hold back.

End of Part One